


Share Your Warmth

by Banna_Banana



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: M/M, no capes AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 18:36:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8928496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Banna_Banana/pseuds/Banna_Banana
Summary: My gift for the JayTim secret santa exchange and this is for squintlovely.Prompt: sharing cigarettes, warming each other up, decorating Christmas trees, and Jason with a white streak in his hairMerry Christmas





	

             Tim has been on his tippy toes for the past half hour; apparently, he’s so short that even a ladder can’t complete the job. He can’t believe he was forced into this. Tim was going to take pictures at the event anyway, a cookies with Santa thing for the kids of Gotham, but then he was volunteered. By his parents. Who were never even _there_.

              Tim is going to the occasion anyway to take pictures; he loves taking pictures of Gotham scenes. However, now Tim has to give up one day -which in the long run isn’t that big of a deal, but he had a bunch of pictures he _needed_ to develop- to set up the Gotham High Cafeteria to look like a Christmas Wonderland.

              It wouldn’t even be that bad if he were alone, he could pop in his head phones and pretend like he wasn’t singing along, but he wasn’t. Jason Todd, the black sheep of Gotham High, with his brown leather jacket and stress-induced white streak and permanent attitude and-

              “Hey Drake, are ya trying to figure out a formula for hanging ornaments or are ya not as much of a nerd as I thought?” Jason asks, looking up at Tim, though not really. This kid is a real giant, and Tim is only _slightly_ jealous.

              _Shouldn’t you be out having a smoke right about now?_ Tim wants to ask this, but he thinks Jason can run a lot faster and hit a whole lot harder than he can.

“All I'm trying to do is make sure this place looks good for the kids of Gotham,” Tim says instead, wishing to end this conversation quickly, but Jason just looks at the tree in distaste.

“This tree looks like shit. Pretty sure I've seen this same exact one on TV,” he says. Tim doesn't understand the problem; the ornaments on this tree were donated by Bruce Wayne, the very same man who took Jason in, according to the papers. The same thing happened years back, but even Dick Grayson, circus kid, had fit in more than Jason does. It's impossible to not hear talk of Wayne’s ‘charity case’. “I'm gonna go see if they have candy canes to put on the tree.”

Tim’s almost offended that Jason thinks he’s stupid enough to believe the blatant lie; he walked out the cafeteria doors to outside.

“Where’s Master Jason?” Mr. Pennyworth, Wayne’s butler, asks some odd minutes later.

“He went to go ask if there were candy canes,” Tim lies, but Mr. Pennyworth seems to know Jason too well because he frowns, his forehead creasing a bit.

“Yes, well, if he comes back without any luck, tell him it's behind the tree,” he says before walking back to the kitchen, back to making cookies. Oh. Tim hadn't even seen those before, but if he tilts to the right a bit, he can see the box.

As Tim goes back to decorating the tree, Jason still not back, he can’t help but wonder why Bruce Wayne is putting in so much effort for Christmas this year. Sure, Wayne Enterprises donates a healthy sum each year at a gala, but having the butler actually bake cookies for the children of Gotham? It seems a bit extra.

Tim has just started wrapping the empty boxes that’ll go under the tree for decoration when Jason walks in, his shoulders looking just _slightly_ more relaxed. “Mr. Pennyworth said that the candy canes are just behind the tree,” Tim says, pointing towards the general direction where the box lays.

Jason’s eyebrows furrow a bit, as he says, “Mr. Pennyw- fuck!” He finishes his statement with a hiss. Tim's theory is confirmed, but he doesn't find himself feeling bad for Jason as he looks, glares, down his crooked nose with all of it’s freckles and tan skin and “Jesus, maybe you do have a staring problem,” he says, and Tim can't tell if it's out of malice or what.

“You have a not-wrapping problem,” Tim says, and okay, maybe he’s not the best at comebacks.

“Shut the fu-“

“Master Jason, did you find the candy canes?” Mr. Pennyworth asks, giving Jason what Tim guesses is a disappointing look.

“Yeah.”

“Ah yes,” Mr. Pennyworth starts, reaching behind the tree at the same time that Jason looks like he wants to smash his head in the nearest door, “I see you forgot about the extra boxes.” Mr. Pennyworth sets down the boxes next to Jason with a last look before heading back to the school kitchen.

“Stop staring at me Drake.”

 

Almost everybody in Gotham is here tonight, and that’s not even an exaggeration. The majority of the elementary school students have shown up, and Tim’s already halfway through his memory card -his family’s rich, but he doubt’s his parents will put in more money for film, even if it _will_ help with their publicity. Other than children, there are quite a few news stations here tonight; no reporter in their right mind would pass up the opportunity to interview Mr. Wayne who is helping the impoverish children of Gotham when his own ward used to be one of them.

Speaking of Jason, he’s not dressed in the pressed suits that Mr. Pennyworth typically forces him to wear at galas, or the uniform he wears at school, or even designer clothes. He’s dressed in just plain jeans and a Wonder Woman T-shirt, and it’s doing things to Tim. Very, very nice things, but very, very confusing things.

The man who’s dressed as Santa looks entirely annoyed with the overexcited children clambering into his lap, but Jason just picks the smaller children up with his hands under their armpits and sets them on the grumpy man’s lap. Before Jason looks back at him for the picture, Tim takes a quick snap of Jason smiling at the little boy. As the small boy rattles off his list to Santa, Tim takes the picture of the boy, but immediately after, Tim’s night gets ruined.

“Mr. Drake, it’s refreshing to see a child of a business tycoon _actually_ doing some work,” a reporter says with a glance at Jason, who’s kneeling down to talk to the next little girl in line. “I’m surprised a man like your father is encouraging your hobby; it doesn’t seem like the type of thing that would benefit Drake Enterprises,” the reporter continues, shoving the microphone in front of Tim’s face in lieu of actually asking a question.

“My father has quite the appreciation of the arts, I assure you,” Tim says with a fake smile as he takes a picture of the next child to climb on Santa’s laugh.

“Of course, Mr. Drake, I understand that he accompanies your mother on all of her trips to art auctions. They’ve left for France just today, haven’t they?”

“Yes, they have,” Tim responds, and his smile is already starting to wear thin.

“And they’re to be gone for two weeks, correct? So are you going to be flying to France to enjoy the holiday with them?”

This reporter is hitting too close to home, literally, and Tim has to pause in the middle of his job to make sure his façade doesn’t break. “I’m afraid not; I’ll be staying home this holiday.”

Jason’s looking at him now, annoyed, and Tim figures that must mean he took too long to answer the question. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to taking pictures,” Tim dismisses, and without so much as a ‘thank you for answering our questions’, the reporter stalks away.

With that nuisance gone, Tim is free to take pictures of children and, only once in a while, Jason. The cookies are gone before the line is completely through.

 

* * *

 

This wasn’t shaping up to be a bad evening, Jason couldn’t help but think. He never came to this shit when he was a kid; no one could know he cared, that it bothered him that he didn’t get warm cookies and presents on Christmas morning. Sure, half the kids weren’t in line and only came for a hot meal, even if only a cookie, but the kids in line were quickly making Jason’s day. They seemed to have a better time relaying their list to him rather than Santa.

But like most nice moments in Jason’s life, the Gotham News sent it all to hell.

He’s spent a lot of Christmases alone, at this point _celebrating_ is the weird option, but seeing the Drake kid say that he’ll be alone with a fake smile on his face is angering. No one should have to be alone on Christmas, especially if they can easily not be, so fuck the Drakes for leaving their kid alone. Their kid who always looks sad except when he looks at his camera or the picture he just took.

 

Jason’s sitting on the couch reading a book from the Wayne library, one whose spine cracked when he opened it. Dick and Babs had just gotten here, and all they were doing was reminiscing about ‘good old times’, i.e. before Jason got here. Alfred has already been through with cookies, two of which Jason scarfed down, and now he was in the kitchen slaving away over Christmas Eve dinner. Bruce, Dick, and Babs have quickly made their way to the library where the albums are, and man is Jason glad that he didn’t stay in there to read.

A knock on the door is what finally forces him to get up. “Don’t worry about it Alfred,” Jason calls out as he gets up, hearing Alfred’s sigh. The heaviness of the door is something that Jason still hasn’t gotten used to, but he’s infinitely more surprised when he opens the door to see a bundled-up Tim Drake. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

He looks shocked that it was Jason who answered, and standing there, underneath a thick jacket, a scarf, and his arms tight around a big box with a smaller one on top, he looks smaller than Jason has ever seen him.

“I come baring gifts,” Tim says, and his cheeks are either red from the cold or embarrassment from that nerdy ass statement.

“No shit. Why?” Jason’s being rude, he knows this, but he can’t stop. Everyone here is talking about all the good things that have happened, all the good Christmases they’ve had, so the last thing Jason wants to here is-

“I came to bring these to Mr. Wayne.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever, come the fuck in,” Jason snaps, holding the door open a little wider so Tim can get the big ass box through.

“Master Jason!” Alfred gasps, “I’d really hope that you don’t consider this proper behavior! Mr. Drake, please come in,” Alfred says in that professional tone of his.

“I just…came to bring these to Mr. Wayne, from my parents,” Tim says, quiet but still standing tall and enunciating. Fucking hell.

“Yes, well, I’m sure Master Bruce won’t mind if you stay for dinner,” Alfred says, and Jason is finally testing to see if he’s a telepath. _Stop whatever you’re doing_.

“It’s no problem,” Tim responds, but his shoulders aren’t as back as they were a second ago.

“I insist. I will take great offense if you don’t,” Alfred responds, in that way that means no is not an answer he’ll take.

“I _really_ ,” Tim starts, but Jason has already grabbed him by the base of his coat and is pulling him into the house.

 

Ten minutes of awkward silence later and Jason honestly can’t stand it anymore. Fuck Alfred for leaving the two of them in the living room together with only those huge, ornate boxes between them.

“Were the pictures the other night good?” Jason asks, and Tim looks super shocked that a conversation is even having the possibility of starting.

“Um, yeah. I have to get them all printed and what not, but I wish I had used actual film because some of them were…really… good,” Tim says, losing speed as he finishes. Jason doesn’t mind the rambling all that much; listening to people talk about something they’re passionate about is actually pretty nice. Bruce and Dick don’t listen when he tells them about the book he read, and Babs listens sure, but Alfred actually asks Jason questions. Alfred will ask him what he thought about _Pride and Prejudice_ and any other book that Jason doesn’t think can compare.

“Give me a couple o’ bucks and I’ll pose in some pictures for ya,” Jason offers because he still hasn’t gotten over his ‘I’ll do just about anything if you pay me’ mentality. Since it’s like a fucking furnace in the living room, Jason now has to decide between Tim’s face being flushed or if he’s just blushing.

“I don’t… you don’t have t-“

“Jay! It’s been so long since I’ve seen you,” Dicks exclaims as he comes into the room and throws his arms over Tim, who promptly lets out a squeak that Jason kinda likes.

“Wow Dick! It’s been so long since you’ve walked in the door that I’m basically a different person,” Jason says, smiling with all of his teeth on display. On the best of days, Dick annoys Jason, and on the worst, Jason would much rather be anywhere else.

“Sorry man, I just didn’t think you’d have a friend over,” Dick apologizes, and he seems to grow bored as he recognizes Tim. “Holy shit, Tim Drake right? Sorry your parents are, ya know, in France for Christmas. At least you could here for Jason’s first Christmas.” Holy fuck, Jason never realized that Dick could be such a dick.

“C’mon Drake, let me show you the court.”

Jason’s only ninety percent sure that they have a basketball court, but Bruce is rich as hell and Dick was an active kid. He can’t really stand to be in the manor anymore, and he _really_ doesn’t want to subject Tim to Dick’s shit. Jason takes them on a ‘tour’ around the outside of the house until they find a place with no windows and a bench. It’s actually pretty hard.

“Sorry that he can be such a dick,” Jason says just as they sit down on the bench.

“Wordplay intended?” Tim asks, and maybe what Jason said was lame as hell, but at least Tim is smiling.

              Reaching into the pocket of his slacks, Jason pulls out the single cigarette he designated for tonight and his lighter. Fuck, he didn’t think he’d need it this early. As he lights up, hand cupped around the end of the cigarette so it’ll actually ignite, he tries to ignore Tim watching him so intently.

              “You wanna try?” Jason offers as he blows out smoke, moving the hand with the cigarette in front of Tim.

              “Sure,” Tim says, holding it as though he thinks it’ll self combust. He takes drag, not sure but not long, and holds still for a second before blowing out the smoke. Without even coughing.

              “You ever done this before?”

              “No. Never.”

              “Then you’re not doing it right,” Jason says with a laugh. “Give it here. What you’re doing, you’re just taking in the smoke and keepin’ it in your mouth. You actually gotta breathe it in. Look.” Jason demonstrates, making a dramatic showing of breathing in the smoke so that Tim can get the picture.

              This time Jason knows Tim is doing it right; there’s a second where he makes a face and then the next he’s basically coughing up a lung. “That…is…horrible,” Tim says between coughs. “But it makes me feel warm,” he finishes once he’s fine.

              “Here, wanna try something that probably won’t suck as bad?” Jason offers, really _really_ hoping that Tim will say yes, no questions asked.

              “I’m still cold, so why not,” Tim says, looking kinda nervous. This must be the most rebellious thing the uptight Tim Drake has ever done, and Jason doesn’t know whether he’s happy or upset that he’s the source of corruption.

              “Alright. Close your eyes, open your mouth, and tell me to stop if you want. Seriously. Punch me or something.” What Jason is about to do will cross a bunch of lines, and he _needs_ to know if Tim’s cool with it.

              “I’m not going to punch you, Jason. Ready,” Tim says, opening his mouth.

              “Kay.” Jason kind of wants to close his eyes too, it’ll probably less terrifying that way, but this is something he wants to see. He takes a drag off the cigarette, fighting the instinct to inhale so that he can just keep the smoke in his mouth. Tilting his head so that his mouth can fit against Tim’s, Jason leans forward. He connects his mouth to Tim’s and blows the smoke in, finally closing his eyes. Jason can feel the tip of Tim’s tongue touch the part his teeth that curve outwards as Tim tries to physically swallow the smoke. That’s not exactly what he’s supposed to do, but Jason is willing to let Tim Drake not getting something slide in favor of moving his tongue.

              Cupping the back of Tim’s neck, he brings them closer together to ease the awkwardness of the earlier angle. Tim brings his hand up to cup Jason’s forearm, and that’s when everything goes to shit. When Tim pulls back, startled and panting, Jason’s terrified that Tim will actually punch him in the face.

              “You’re not wearing a coat,” Tim says instead of delivering a punch. “Jason it’s like thirty degrees out, you’ll freeze!” and he sounds so scared that Jason doesn’t have the heart to tell him that there have been much colder with less clothes. “Here, take this,” Tim says, pulling off his hat and placing it on his head. Just as Jason is about to protest, Tim unwinds his scarf and wraps it around his neck, but even that doesn’t seem to satisfy him. “You’ll lose your arms like this.” Apparently Tim doesn’t realize that going inside is an option, but Jason’s doubts that he knows that kissing Tim made Jason feel a lot less stressed than a damn cigarette.


End file.
